Snippet #2763121

Another Lunar stepped up, trying to play the intemediary between Astrid and her hated foes. Something about his tone seemed condescending, but she simply couldn't place it. Was he perhaps, insulting her because she was a Northerner, or was it something more. Certain words were overly mangled, and she decided to ignore them altogether. "This man's a servant of the Neverborn! Are you kidding me!? People like him killed Mila! And here, I'm supposed to listen to Nain-Ya about who I should and should NOT kill." She grit her teeth, uncertain about her course of action, but feeling strangely calm.

The man's words seemed to calm the angry Chimera. Nodding frantically, he tried his best to convince Astrid of his innocence. "W-what he said! This whole situations a craps-shoot, but I'm not your enemy here. Deathlords all hate each other, whoever killed your Mila, ch-chances are I hate them as much as you do!" The piece of jade continued to buzz angrily, waiting for the Deathknight to call its inhabitants forth. He was suddenly starting to regret not insisting on finding a way to bring his War Machines with him. Full Moons weren't to be trifled with, especially not one in a Beastman transformation.

The Lunar girl let a low growl loose, calming down but with an ugly taste in her mouth. She spat on the ground, expressing her distaste, but suddenly feeling much less like she needs to gut the pale worm. "Fine!" Turning around she stared at her fellow Lunar. He hadn't been mentioned at the last Tlak, meaning he was probably new. Expending Essence, her tattoos marking victories and losses began to shine and silvery flames seemed to envelop her. At the same time, she gave him a long look, attempting to discern who he was.

After a long moment, she reached out a clawed hand and rubbed her fellow Lunar's head, feeling his ears. "Ah..." A long bit of scrutiny revealed his tell, "You're Ashen Sky, I've heard of you from the Elders... I'm Astrid Grunewald." Turning back to the Deathknight, a flick of her tail expressed her displeasure, and she morphed into a small houescat with ferociously noticeable fangs. Tiny paws padded away from the two, joining the meditative woman and curling up on her lap.

The Deathknight sighed, thankful to not have been torn apart when he was most vulnerable. With a smile he addressed the newcomer in the common tongue. "Thanks... No clue what her issue was, I swear we've never met. I'm The Artisan That Which Souls Cling, nice to meet you." His features were warm and kindly, but his Caste mark betrayed a visceral nature. He put away the angry piece of Jade which his fingers clenched to as if life depended on it. "I owe you one," he said as he extended a hand in greeting.

A younger male also came to greet Artisan, and as it seemed the Deathknight would need all the friends he could get, he politely answered. "I rarely take my armor off, it leaves too much to chance. However I did contract a ghost to catch me should I fall overboard, in preparation for this journey. I am The Artisan That Which Souls Cling, nice to meet you Ioa." He then gestured to the shackled man behind him, "And this is one of my pets, he has no name." Artisan handed the slave a bag and told him to, "Take these to my room and prepare it for me."